Jump in the cab of my very frightened Triton with me. I'm moving my laptop and camera out of the footwell of the passenger side and squeezing it on the back seat with all my other stuff.
Buckle up - I can't afford to lose any more points - we've got a big couple of weeks ahead.
I just got the car back from its service - the sticker they put on telling me to bring it back when it's done another 15,000km or a year has passed, whichever comes first, always makes me smile.
It's Wednesday, deadline day and I've been given the honour of a front page, looking at possible increases to the cattle levy. That was joined by stories about reductions to the Spanish mackerel quota, a new drive-in coffee business in Charleville, a shearing school initiative, a bull sale report, and a market report from the cattle sale at Roma.
It's on to new stories though - one of the big bull sales on our calendar is on this arvo, and storms are brewing. I've checked Facebook - no news of a cancellation - so it's all systems go to Wallumbilla.
We've arrived and there's no chance of social photos - everyone's huddled out of the wind and rain in the meal and drinks shed, so let's take a pic of the scene and get into the stands and shelter.
Quick, text that shot on my phone to the editor - the sale's started with a bang - $250,000! We think that might be a world record for the breed, so she's not wasting time getting that news out to readers.
A few hours later, the catalogue's filled in, bulls have been photographed and interviews have hopefully captured the euphoria of the afternoon, so it's back to Roma to write up an extended story for online readers. It looks like we'll manage a late dinner at the Royal.
You can join me on Thursday morning for a one-hour fast-slow running training session if you like, then we're going to have an unusual day, for me. It's the national day of mourning so no staff news meeting today.
Instead, it's time for a bit of housework and then we're heading west, to Blackall. We've got a few hours to drive so I want to run this idea for a feature by you.
It's been gnawing away in my mind for ages; the escalating situation that vets are facing in the bush. There's less of them willing to work out west and the workload for those who are left is enormous.
I just don't think the public understands this well, so I'm hoping to enlighten them, as well as explore all the factors at play, and try and find some solutions. What do you think? Any suggestions of who I should talk with?
Being a public holiday, not much is open in town when we arrive, but luckily there's a couple of frozen meals I can defrost while I add to the photo gallery for the shearing school story and get it online for evening reading.
Friday morning, we're back in the car, heading north.
The state Transport Minister is going to announce the expansion of the 'electric super-highway' in Longreach early next week and I'd like to grab a pic while I'm passing through, because I can't attend in person, but all I end up doing is burn up diesel searching for the EV charging stations. Signage is in short supply.
We'll pull up for a bit anyway - there's a few calls to make for issues I'm chasing - getting responses to the news that Origin Energy has given up its petroleum leases in the Channel Country and sourcing some outstanding aerial shots of the region, plus trying to get to the bottom of the proposed closure of the Cape York biosecurity centre at Coen, when there's so much emphasis on keeping deadly animal diseases out of the country.
Unless I put the calls in now, and start asking for answers, I know I'll be scratching for replies when I need them.
Loving the drive up to Winton after that - always good to eyeball the paddocks and get an idea of the season for yourself - just in time to attend the opening of the wool museum at the home of our great sheep stealing anthem, Waltzing Matilda.
So many shearing legends were back for the big night - it made it really worthwhile to attend in person and hear their stories.
After a quick dinner at the North Gregory, watching the Cowboys go down to the Eels, it's back to the motel to get the pictures and story online for the morning - pull the sheet over your eyes if you need to sleep, it's going to be a late one.
Saturday morning, after my weekly long training run (only an hour), we're heading south. After Lark Quarry, the road is all new to me. Thankfully the gravel is good and there's no flat tyre - we don't see another car for over two hours.
I jump out at Jundah with a lovely afternoon light to work with to capture the action at the national bronco branding championships, but I could do without the dust!
Just like last night, people from the NT, South Australia and outback Queensland are busy preserving history here, plus I can ask people who actually live in the area what they think of gas exploration.
I'm going to let you out here - I've got a bed booked at Windorah, and a flight to Brisbane for a Brad Paisley concert - but it's been great to have your company for the past five days.
A comment by a friend last week that he hoped his work as a journalist could increase society really hit home with me. Probably none of the stories I've written in the five-day period I've just detailed would win an award but that doesn't make them less important.
So often the voices of those who are furtherest away from metro-based media are drowned in the clamour from those who are physically closer, but I've always been determined to give your needs and your deeds a microphone.
I know what it takes to give a journalist your words. I hope that by showing up and showing I understand, we can build a mutual trust. It's what drives me down each of those tracks and highways with my notebooks and camera.
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